(TW: talk of ideation and self harm)
Funk got worse in recent days. Easter weekend not helping at all.
I’m not totally sure how ready I am to talk about this, if at all, but I’m going through what people call faith “deconstruction.” (Think Demo Day on Fixer Upper ….) In addition to all of the other stuff going on for me – all of the other trauma and pain, there is a necessary sorting and purging (demolition) of the baggage in my life born from religion.
It’s Easter today, and the truth is I’m SO GLAD to not have to go to church today, or engage with people – especially religious ones, or do anything other than sit with what’s coming up for me. Friday night I ended up making a rather late call to my therapist because I wasn’t sure I could keep myself safe, and a large part of what was weighing down so heavily was grief about Easter. Grief for my younger self(s), who could never hear their own voice (let alone trust it) enough to know they were triggered, and repulsed. Grief over my whole-hearted participation in something so harmful to so many. Grief for the loss of a faith that truly buoyed me for so many years. Grief over what the Church has turned Easter into ……..
I made the colossal mistake of checking Facebook briefly. I really want to sit with this, because I’m curious about what drove me to that choice when I knew full well I would leave feeling worse about the world. More specifically, about certain “Christians” in my life. Oh, and that reminds me of a new realization: as I slowly start to reengage in the world soon, I do not want to put any time or energy into any relationships where I have not been and will not be able to be authentically me. Additionally, I am fine with agreeing to disagree with people on issues, but I am not fine with being in close connection with people who’ve revealed themselves not only to be racist and other -ists in the last year, but who have made it painfully clear they are not interested in learning more about the pain or hardship of anyone who doesn’t fit their privileged narrative. I find this inexplicably abhorrent in Christian friends of mine. I cannot reconcile their religious posts on social media with their attitudes and behaviors in the comment threads. I cannot reconcile their hate, bigotry, arrogance and ignorance with their supposed love for a God of justice, wisdom, truth, and unconditional love.
The world doesn’t feel safe to me. I’ve said it before. People have all but destroyed my faith in humanity at this point, and the Church has all but destroyed my faith.
“It must not have been true faith, then, if people can wipe it out so easily.”
Just don’t.
You don’t know me, and you haven’t walked my path. You have no idea how many hours/weeks/months/years/decades I was all in. You have no idea how much manipulation and abuse I put up with, or made excuses for. You have no idea the personal cost to me and my family. (And my apologies to the three people who actually read this. “You” obviously is not you, lol.)
Deconstruction is extraordinarily painful. I had no idea what I was in for. I had no idea it would essentially be an additional trauma. Or, rather … the process itself is not what’s traumatic. The truth is. It’s HARD to look at everything you once held dear and see all of the lies and harm in it. It’s like being in a committed relationship that spans decades and finding out your partner was not who you thought they were, and in the worst ways.
Easter is hard. It’s hard because I feel lost. I feel like I got asked to no longer sit at the lunch table with the cool kids, and I found out the cool kids are mostly really not good people. I found out they don’t actually like me because I started thinking and talking about things that made them uncomfortable. I started asking hard questions, and challenging injustice within a group that is supposed to be just to its core.
Easter is hard because all of my childhood years were riddled with pageantry and pompousness. With the finest threads worn by the most evil people (in my life).
Easter is hard because my best friend died on Easter one year, and no one allowed me to grieve. I was a child.
Easter is hard because my two worst perpetrators were always in the same room as me at family dinners where everyone was so holy but no one did anything but gossip and fat-shame and create a wide berth for abusers in their midst ……..
Easter is hard because I feel lost, and invisible, and betrayed, and exhausted. I feel disillusioned, overlooked, forgotten, and cast aside. It is no wonder that Friday night I was not sure I would make it through the night without doing something impulsive (and final), and it is no wonder that today I am noticing intense urges to self-harm. Like …. intense.
I have chosen to just Be today. No plans. No interactions with people unless necessary. No schedule, even of what I will watch or read or listen to. Just me, being with me. Trying to listen. Trying to sit with the truth that has never really been given air until now. That is self-care for me today; I choose to give myself room to tell the truth, no matter how horrible it feels or sounds, and I choose to try to welcome those truths and their pain into my space instead of Shoulding them away, or trying to stuff them down with food, or force them out with a mandated joy I don’t have access to.
I don’t like Easter, I am having a hard day, and I’m glad to just finally tell the truth – even if it’s just anonymously.
Anonymously Open 